Invasion Wars 1: Crimes of War by Ray O'Neil

personnel. Understood?”
    “Understood, sir!”
    Running out of the room, the captain opened his wrist communicator and repeated the order over the PA system. Dr. Mengele held himself on the metal box that was now offline, his breathing growing deeper and sharper. Pounding his fist again and pushing himself off of the holosphere, he pressed the button on the far wall. From the wall swung down a weapon never seen by any ERA soldiers, only in lab test. It was still a prototype, but it was the only weapon he trusted to take out whatever was attacking his prized facility.
    Air hissed from the glass case, its curved hatch opened and the oddly shaped rifle rising out of hiding to be reachable. Grabbing it by the circular opening where the grip was, he put a thumb on the side. The weapon hummed awake, the long rectangular crevices within the barrel glowing a gentle yellow. The exposed tube on the left side started to pump a bright yellow fluid, filling the smaller tubes lined along the bottom of the barrel. Dr. Mengele stuck his hand into the arm slot in the back–having the weapon swallow his entire arm–and lifted his other arm through the securing belt, fastening it tight around his muscular chest.
    “I’m not letting my work be all for nothing,” he promised to himself out loud. “The world depends on my success…”
    .  .  .
    The alarm woke Emich out of his deep sleep; sitting up instantly. Being shot at all day wore him out more than he expected, his body still shaking from the constant bursts of adrenaline. Red lights flashed in his dark room, the room to his door opening on its own. Nobody was there, but he could hear yelling and running coming from outside. Waiting for the feeling of his body to collapse on itself, it never came.
    He lifted his arm, able to move it at a normal speed — same with his other one. Squeezing his hands into strong fists, he grabbed at the needle in his arm and took it right out, tossing it with a flick of a wrist. The IV bag fell onto the floor, the liquid inside dripping through the needle. The light from the hallway reached to the side of his bed, Emich entering it as he got to his feet. Gunshots rang out, followed by inhuman cries of pain.
    Staying cautious, he approached the door slowly, staying behind cover and peeking before he walked out. Right when he stuck his head out enough to see into the hallway, something tackled him to the ground. Hitting the floor with his back, Emich blinked hard, only to see the appearance of what used to be human. The test subject had scales covering his skin, some of his teeth sharp and sticking out of his cheeks. His eyes glowed a deep red, as if they were filled with blood; veins popping out of the sides and pulsing.
    Punching his attacker only caused the jagged scales and teeth to cut into his fist, doing more damage to Emich. The bones for two of his knuckles and his upper hand were exposed as he held back the arms of the failed experiment, using all of his strength to keep his clawed hands at bay. Leaning its head in, it opened its mouth wide, its large fangs closing in and ready to chomp down on Emich’s skull. The room lit up with gunfire, the creature tensing as bullets filled its back. Losing its strength, Emich pushed the test subject off of him, having it stumble towards the guard at the door.
    Showing no mercy, the guard already had his baton set to “lethal”, its long blade being jabbed into the back of the experiment’s neck. Taking the baton’s blade out of his opponent with a jet of blood splattering against the wall, the guard huffed as he lifted his AX-9 pistol at Emich. His hand was shaking violently, his legs barely able to support him as he struggled to keep his body upright. Emich’s seen that state in a soldier before, that point when every mental suppressant is overwhelmed by fear and shock to the point the body is ready to shut down. There was no time to react; all Emich could do was cover his face and expect the